


Bye

by gaytoxe



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Blood, M/M, Spoilers, chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytoxe/pseuds/gaytoxe
Summary: Momota questions Ouma's motives in the hangar.





	Bye

**Author's Note:**

> a small ficlet request i did. hello! i'm meredith or mere. if you'd like to see more of what i write or want to talk, i'm @gaytoxe on tumblr!

Momota stares up at the ceiling of the bathroom with a grimace, pressed up against the wall as blood dribbles down his chin. He breathes heavily, and the bubbling urge to cough once more as the maroon liquid embedded inside his throat and veins threatens to jump and escape the confines of his lips.

Teeth clenched together and beads of sweat sticking to his body, the moment he opens his mouth he’s a hacking mess, the pain in his voice bouncing off the tiles as blood splatters onto the floor and onto his already dirtied clothes; it reminds him of a paint splatter an artist makes by mistake.

Because everything right now is a fucking mistake, and he’s not sure why he decided to trust the boy that enters the bathroom with a tray and a glass of water.

It’s Ouma, and he’s wearing a kind of smile that’s scary but in indescribable pain. Something Kaito is all too familiar with.

“Momota-chan can’t go dying on me,” he says, placing the tray down on the floor and holding out the glass to him.

Kaito scoffs and crosses his arms. “I don’t need your fucking water.”

“You’ll be needing it pretty soon when—” Ouma is cut off when blood bubbles in Kaito’s throat and he coughs once again, blood rushing like water and dripping onto the floor.

“—that happens.”

Kaito knows he’s right, but he refuses to take any help from him, trying to grasp the small thread of pride he has left. He tries to believe that he’ll be okay, that he doesn’t need his help, even if he’s aware he’ll have to accept it soon.

Kaito never actually thought about death. He always believed he’d get out somehow.

But now he’s up against the wall, the only thing keeping him going is the unwavering determination to survive and escape with everyone else.

They need him. He’s not going to just leave them behind.

His tired lilac eyes meet Ouma’s, and he bores right into them to try and find any emotion at all besides the look he’s giving him. But he stares right back, and a tense and heavy air fills the space between them.

Finally, Ouma steps back.

“Momota-chan’s such a hypocrite. Always telling people not to lie when he’s been lying this entire time,” he tells him accusingly, not even hesitating once. “He thinks he has to try so hard to be a hero, but you don’t believe half the words that your big mouth says, do you?”

Kaito grits his teeth because he knows it’s true and he knows he’s starting to break down.

“I— I fucking know that,” he grumbles quietly with a gravelly voice as it becomes harder to breathe.

“Hmm? What was that?” Ouma asks in a sickeningly innocent tone, contradicting how he sounded just before.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ouma lets out a laugh that’s mixed with venom but also a hint of pain as he clutches his arm. Harukawa’s arrow is still pierced through, and it’s sickening to stare at it.

He remembers the jolt of pain that rushed through him when he stepped in to save him, to save Ouma. And he knows he doesn’t want him to die; hell, Momota doesn’t want to die either.

Every single goddamn second he’s sitting there doing nothing is another second the voice in his head tells him he’s being weak. And he hates it.

Even so, he says, “Come here,” and gestures to his punctured arm. “Leaving the arrows in there isn’t gonna do you any good. You got any medical kits around here?”

Ouma gazes at him for a moment, skeptical, before he leaves the room for a few moments, leaving him in silence.

Kaito isn’t sure why he offered, but there’s a shared sense of suffering between them that he understands to a great degree and decides he can’t just ignore.

Soon enough, Ouma’s messy purple hair pops into the room and he plops down in front of Momota, handing him a first aid kit.

“Better make it quick, Momota-chan. I have evil plans to attend to.”

“Uh-huh.”

Momota notes that there isn’t any blood spilling from Ouma’s wound anymore, guessing that the blood clotted and the arrow stopped it. He hopes it did, at least.

Applying pressure to Ouma’s arm and gently pulling the arrow out, he hears him wince and whine, “That hurts, Momota-chan!”

“Of course it fucking hurts. You got shot with an arrow,” Kaito fires back, finally removing it and opening the kit. He presses a pad to the wound, wrapping bandages around to keep it in place.

He’ll have to remove the arrow from Ouma’s back too, he realizes, and he wonders if he’s skilled enough in the health class him and all the other astronauts took to learn basic first aid in case of emergencies.

“The one on your back,” he starts, “is probably gonna hurt a shit ton more.”

Ouma nods slowly in acceptance and says, “I know,” and spins around so his back is facing him, showing the wound up close.

It’s bloody and it’s right towards the middle, sticking out in a sickly way; just like a flag to scream “fuck you, I’m poisoned”. So much so that Momota wonders how he can even stand it at that point.

Nonetheless, he tries his best to remove it as painless as possible; even though jerking it out would be the least painful, Kaito figures it’ll just open the wound even further.

Fingers coiling around the arrow, he slowly begins to remove it, applying pressure to where it pierced his body and trying not to listen to the groaning that Ouma lets out.

Even if it’s him, Momota will always find someone else’s pain ultimately heart wrenching.

He quickly lifts up Ouma’s shirt and presses another pad to his back, but his hands begin to shake from the sight. He feels so much more than from before even if it’s only from examining it, and he hesitates.

If he had intervened earlier, he wonders, would they have ever been in this situation in the first place?

His shaking hand remains on Ouma’s wound, and he slowly wraps bandages around his back and secures them before he slowly retracts his hand, pulling his shirt back down.

“You feel any better?” he finally asks, his gaze glued to the blood that stains Ouma’s shirt.

“As better as being shot in the arm and back with posion arrows can be,” Ouma sneers in response and turns his head back to look at him, beads of sweat on his face.

They bore into each other’s eyes for a moment that lasts a little too long, and Kaito knows that same feeling of agony that slowly eats away at the two of them; a slow pain that can’t be helped.

Then he wonders why Ouma gave him the antidote of all people if it would hurt so bad. He didn’t have to endure the poison if he really just drank it himself and left Kaito to die because of Harukawa’s poison arrow.

He had the opportunity to make him suffer, but he chose not to.

“Why—” Kaito clears his throat and tries to focus his gaze on Ouma’s face, “—did you give me the fucking antidote?”

A creepy grin spreads across Ouma’s face to replace the glare he dawned before and he replies, “I have a plan for you, Momota-chan.”

-

The same memory of the bathroom fills Kaito’s mind as his hand hovers over the button to really, truly and finally close the press for good.

“What are you waiting for?” Ouma’s voice rings out in his ears and he flinches. “It’s— it’s really starting to get harder to move.”

His words stab Kaito’s heart with the sharpest knife he’s ever known and he gulps, but a realization comes to mind and he lets out a shaky exhale.

The words I don’t think I can do this anymore fill his mind.

And then he mentally slaps himself. He owes him. He owes Ouma for saving his fucking life instead of drinking the antidote and leaving Kaito to die without any consequences.

So he has to carry out the plan, no matter what.

“I’m— I’m gonna fucking miss you, Ouma. There are so many things I don’t know about you, and— fuck. It’s all gotta end right here and now, but goddamnit there’s just a gut feeling that makes me wanna believe we wouldn’t be the same kinda enemies towards each other out of this fucking game,” Kaito admits with a shaking voice, his hand beginning to shake again as he clenches his teeth.

Ouma scoffs gently, but a smile spreads across his face.

“Maybe,” he agrees, and then his expression darkens. “But that’s not what matters now. Harukawa-chan is going to become the culprit soon. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Right,” Kaito mutters, “I fucking know.”

He pauses, leaving the hangar in silence as his hand slowly inches to the red button, lilac eyes flooding with regret.

“Bye, Ouma.”

“See you, Momota-chan.”

And then he presses the button. And he starts the camera. And he pulls and destroys the cords of the press.

And as he drops his scarf into the toilet, flushing it down, he thinks of all the other things he could’ve said to him; all the things he could’ve done to stop this.

Because he doesn’t just want a goodbye.

He wants understanding.

All the sacrifices Ouma really made become so clear in Kaito’s mind that he’s tearing up as he releases terrible hacks and coughs, the same painter’s mess of red spilling onto the bathroom floor.

And two invisible hands, ones that are smaller than his, clench at his heart, holding onto him.

For some reason, they remind him of Ouma.


End file.
